A Person with Morals gets Transported to Another World [LitRPG] [Satire]

“A robbery? No! Not at all.” Rye got closer to me and started rummaging through my bag. “This is completely different from simple theft.” She pulled out my water bottle, inspected it, and then tossed it to the ground. “I am taking your stuff of course, but I’m giving you a better product in return.” The next item to fall to her clutches was my small paper bag full of raisins. She poured them out into her hand and stared at them. “These aren’t magical, are they?” Using her thumb, she flicked one into her mouth and chewed it. “Nope. Nonmagical.”

It was infuriating to watch her go through my things so haphazardly.

While the girl continued to pilfer my possessions, I appealed to the other students in the room. “Is no one going to stop this? I’m being robbed in broad daylight.” They paid me no attention. All were far too focused on their own projects.

I wondered if Penrin and Newmill were looking for me. They must’ve noticed I was gone by now. Perhaps they would be the ones to save me, I thought.

“Ow!” Rye jerked her hand out of my bag. “Why are there so many needles in here?” She had poked her finger on one. A bead of blood formed on her finger.

“Hah! Serves you right.” I stuck my tongue out at her and made a farting noise by pushing air out of my lips. “Also, you should disinfect that with the rubbing alcohol in my bag.” It would be a mark of great shame as an acupuncturist if a person got sick from my needles.

The door to the room opened, and for a moment I had hope the Newmill and Penrin had come for me, but that was not the case.

“Good day, club president.” The other students greeted the man with unkempt hair who had just walked in.

The 25-year-old man strode to the front desk and slammed his palm onto the wood. The loud noise startled everyone. “I’ve been receiving complaints from the teachers of you lot kidnapping people.”

The room that was once bustling with conversation and palpable enthusiasm had fallen silent. Everyone’s attention was on the club president.

I tried to raise my hand but the bindings wouldn’t allow me, so I just wagged my arm in place. “I’m one of the ones who’s been kidnapped. Please save me, Mr President.” I was glad that someone here was against abducting people and stealing from them.

The club president shook his head and spoke in a calm yet intimidating voice. “I have been handed 13 different complaints of kidnapping from the teachers. That is far too few! I need you all to capture more students. We need more crafting ingredients!” On the blackboard, he drew diagrams of kidnapping techniques. “Anyone who is still unsure of their capability to abduct people should come to me.”

Some students approached the club president but most returned to their work.

What a fool I was to think my saviour had arrived.

I was praying with all my heart that I would be released soon. This club was full of lunatics. Actually, I realised that all of the clubs I had seen so far were full of weirdos. Maybe that was just the natural state of students at this school.

“Are you hiding anything else?” Rye asked. Her hands started patting me down and feeling under my shirt.

“Hey, stop!” A weird sensation came over me.

“This can’t be all you have.” Her fingers crept into the nook between my ribs and arm.

“Stop, not there!” I couldn’t hold back anymore. I started laughing. “Really, please stop!” I said between breaths. I was never ticklish in my previous life, but somehow this body was. Being forced to laugh was so strange.

“Sorry,” Rye said. “Didn’t mean to do that. I was just looking for anything you were hiding.”

I slowly winded down. Despite my protests, there was a large part of me that enjoyed that feeling of being tickled, and I wasn’t sure why. It was a new experience for me. “Just don’t do it again,” I said as I recovered my normal breathing rate.

“I guess this is it then.” The girl held up the items of interest she had stolen from me. “Your only crafting components of worth are a giant rat’s pelt and eye. It’s a shame that this is all, but they’re both in remarkably good condition. How were you able to skin and harvest the rat so expertly? Are you a hunter?”

Was I supposed to casually answer the questions of a person who had abducted me? “If you let me go free, I’ll tell you.”

“Heh, good one.” She held the pelt up and stroked the fur. “What would you like for me to craft out of this stuff? I’ll make you whatever you want.”

“I don’t want anything.” As a captured individual, I felt it my duty to make life harder for the person who abducted me.

“That’s too bad. I’m making you something, and you’re going to like it.” She rolled the giant rat eye between her fingers.

I stayed silent. What use was there in speaking to a criminal nutcase?

“If you let me craft you something, I’ll let you go.” She jingled the keys to my chains in front of my face.

“Well why didn’t you say so sooner?” I asked. All I really wanted was to leave anyway. I didn’t really care about the pelt or the eye. I was planning on just throwing them away. I only kept them because the System had given me them, so I believed the items might have been useful. “What sort of crafting recipes do you have? I’ll make a choice out of the options you give me.”

“Recipes?” Rye snickered. “The Crafting Club does not use crafting recipes.”

“Why not?” That sentence seemed as absurd as a bakery club saying they don’t use baking recipes. “Are you guys like study mages who shun the System for making things too easy?”

“No, we don’t reject the System, but we do reject the crafting function within it. You see, it has many faults. For one, you are limited to the recipes that you have. You cannot be creative and construct something that you don’t have a recipe for. For another, the product is given a random modifier when crafted. It can come out weak or strong depending on chance. And finally, it takes all the fun out of crafting things yourself. Figuring out how to make something, drawing up blueprints, finding the ingredients, and putting it all together: this is what crafting is all about.”

“Hmm,” I hummed with a rising inflection, denoting my interest.

“I don’t want the System to randomly decide that my creation is good by giving it a positive modifier. I want to put in effort to make something good and have it be great based off my efforts, not by chance.”

“That’s actually quite inspiring,” I said. “You don’t let the System take the fun out of things, do you? Even though it’s easier to simply make things with the crafting function, you go the hard and difficult path. You choose to do things your own way and with your own hands. You don’t need the power of the System because you have your own power. Isn’t that right?” I said with an inspirational tone.

Rye didn’t seem to be following along. “Actually, we do use the power of the System. Most of us have titles and skills that make crafting easier. We just don’t use the crafting function of the System.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, what would you like me to make you? Think of anything at all. What do you desire most?” Rye waved the pelt in the air like a matador goading a bull into charging.

Anything? This girl certainly wasn’t capable of making anything I could imagine. If she were, I’d ask for a time machine. Or a dimension travelling machine so I could go back to Earth. If I could ask for something in the realm of possibilities, there was one thing I wanted. “Can you craft something that makes me look like a 45-year-old man?” I said.

The girl blinked at me blankly. “Why in the world would you want that?”

“So I can date my friend’s mother,” I admitted with utmost honesty.

Rye gave me several more blinks in quick succession. “You are one weird kid.”

“Hey, you did say anything. If you can’t do it then just make me a blanket or something.” I exhaled through my nostrils.

“Who said I couldn’t do it?” Rye got to work. She drew out a sketch for me and told me to alter it to my liking. I explained in the greatest detail I could, my old appearance. With my specifications in mind, she started her crafting process. Scissors manifested out of thin air, the pelt morphed and changed in both texture and size, particles of orange light emitted from Rye’s fingertips. I could tell she was using various skills because her mana bar depleted as she worked.

Her quick hands sculpted a balding cap within minutes. Next came a beard that was just like the one I had on Earth. Last was a curved rat-fur coat that was moulded such that it looked like the body of a chubby bloke.

Rye freed me and fitted me into all the items she had crafted. She held up a mirror for me to see myself. “Ta-da!” she said. “One full old-man disguise kit. How do you like it?”

A single tear ran down my cheek. It was perfect. I felt like I was staring back at my real self. I was finally me again. I was no longer a child. My hair was thin and balding. I had a beard. My weight was there. Everything was perfect, except my height. I was far too small. The fur coat was as long as an average man, so it scrunched against the floor. I’d need to learn how to use stilts to look completely normal. Otherwise, someone could tell I was in disguise.

Besides that little gripe, it was utterly amazing. “Thank you so much, Rye. You have no idea how much this means to me. I finally look like myself again.”

“Yourself?” She was clearly confused by that statement. “In any case, I’m glad you’re happy with the final product. Now, whenever you get crafting components, you’ll come to me, won’t you? You wouldn’t go and sell them to the guild, would you?”

“Definitely not! You’ve earned my loyalty till death. I’m truly in your debt. Thank you!”

Rye giggled. She pinched my beard, pulled it away, and let it snap back to my face.

“Ouch.”

“You’re free to leave. Come back soon, okay?”

I nodded eagerly. “Of course.”

I left the room and tried to find Newmill and Penrin. Seeing as I somewhat recognised the area, I followed it back to the route we were taking to the belltower. After running along it for a decent while, I saw my two friends in the distance.

“Hey!” I was hopping and skipping since I was so happy. “Did you two miss me? Let’s have a reunion hug,” I joked.

When Newmill and Penrin turned to me, they had looks of horror on their faces. When I got close, Penrin screamed, “AAH! Get away from us you creep!” A strong slap ripped the beard and balding cap off of my head.

“Ow… what was that for?”

“Oh my goodness, sorry Yarm.” Penrin lowered her lip down and to the side, and sucked in air. “I didn’t realise it was you.”

“Where did you get that disguise?” Newmill asked.

As I picked up the beard and started using Repair on it, I answered, “A member of the Crafting Club made it for me. You two must have been worried sick about me.”

The two looked at each other, unsure as how to respond. “Uhm, yeah. We were super worried…” said Newmill.

“Yes. We were certainly worried.” A long pause occurred. “Worried about what exactly?” Penrin asked.

“About my absence,” I said. “I was away for a while.”

“Ah, yes. You were.” Penrin’s eyes darted around everywhere except for on me.

“And we totally noticed you were gone,” Newmill explained unconvincingly. “In fact, we were just about to go looking for you.”

I stared at them incredulously. Unbelievable. This whole time, neither of them had realised I had been abducted. They didn’t glance backwards once, to notice I wasn’t there? Were they that absorbed in their conversation, or was I just that unremarkable?

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